Page 15 of Space Oddities

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My gaze slides up from his legs, and I find his khaki shorts are fitted, his button-down shirt tucked into the front with a thick brown belt. No T-shirt and low-hanging cargo shorts for this man.

A pang that is decidedlynotjealousy shoots down to my lady parts.

“Ready?” Ian asks, hands in his pockets, framing the part of him I’ve become the most curious about.

I lick my parched lips. “Soready, sugar.”

When his eyebrow quirks up, and Jules laughs behind me, I realize I might’ve put a heavy dose of innuendo into my words.

It may be the alcohol, or the envy I’m woman enough to own up to after seeing Flynn with Jackie and Holt with Jules, but I don’t apologize or clarify my meaning. Instead, dress forgotten, I sling my crossbody purse over my shoulder as I walk up to Ian, then use him to balance while I slip into my heels. Once I’m steady and four inches taller, I link my arm in his.

Without looking at Jules or Holt, I call, “Bye, y’all” over my shoulder and let Ian lead me out.

Still snickering, Jules calls out, “See ya, Shortstack.”

Five

Inkling

Ian

“I takeit you guys had a good time?” Trish’s small body is near-flush against mine, both her arms curled around one of mine as we walk.

“Mmm-hmm.” Trish, for being so obviously inebriated, is steady in her heels.

The bright light of the Texas sun hits us as we exit the shop, and Trish slips on a pair of sunglasses from her small bag.

“I’m parked down the street.”

Oversized tortoise shell shades in place, she looks like a modern-day Jackie Onassis. “Lead on.”

It’s a beautiful day in Houston. For once the humidity is low, Texas giving way to autumn. All nearby restaurants’ outdoor seating areas are overflowing with people out for brunch. “Want to grab something to eat before we head back?”

“Hmmm, food sounds nice.” She looks around at all the different offerings. “How about you take me to your favorite place.” She smiles sweetly at me. “Your treat.”

I bark out a laugh, drawing a startled glance from the couple walking past us. “Okay then, my treat.”

* * *

“Your favorite placeis a food truck park?” Trish lifts her shades and looks around in disbelief at the paved lot, cleared except for a circle of eight food trucks. It smells of fried food, international spices, and exhaust.

“Yeah, this place is great. There’s a variety of cuisines, and sometimes they have live music, like today.” I point to a small stage set back away from the food trucks and their noisy generators. Picnic tables fill the center of the lot, with several around the stage as well.

Trish slides her shades back down, and I’m worried now that I can’t see her full reaction. Shedidask to go to my favorite place. But maybe she was expecting someplace swankier. We were right in the middle of the Galleria, after all.

I realize I’m holding my breath, and I exhale, wondering if I’ve disappointed her.

“Mac and cheese egg rolls?” Trish points toward the Soul Food Fusion truck to our left. “Nowthatsounds like heaven.” She tugs on my arm. “Come on, money man, buy a girl some egg rolls.”

And I do. Along with a lobster quesadilla, a chicken and waffle sandwich and fried whoopee pies. And those were just her selections.

Our feast is spread out over a picnic table meant for six.

“Is this too much?” Trish pops her shades back on top of her head and bites her lip. “I just couldn’t decide, and I don’t come into the city that often. I didn’t want to miss out and regret it later.”

“This is fine. It’s like our own buffet.”

Her smile is worth all the indigestion I’m facing later.